


be still, my brother, for i am here

by SerenLyall



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, i tagged it both codywan and gen because you can read it either way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 01:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14884775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenLyall/pseuds/SerenLyall
Summary: There is an attack on the command center, leaving both Cody and Obi-Wan injured.





	be still, my brother, for i am here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SLWalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/gifts).



> Don't think too hard about it - that's my suggestion to you. I wrote this in a fit of madness (I rarely write PT, and when I do it's even rarer Obi-Wan) when SLWalker asked for some Cody and Obi-Wan h/c. Idk if it really matched her request, but ehhhh oh well. It's not my best piece of writing - and again, don't think too hard about the logistics of it. I wanted the scenes to play out the way they played out, so screw logic. lol.

It happens too fast for Obi-Wan to process. One second he is standing in the forward command center, talking to Cody and Mooner about troop deployment, and the next he is bowled over by Cody. The breath is knocked from his lungs with a savage punch of dirt to his back, pain blossoms in his head, and he grunts as Cody lands on him.

“Wha—” he begins, before he realizes his ears are ringing and the air is hot, hot, hot around him.

The ringing fades. 

There are screams, and the crackle of fire, and the groan of wood and durasteel buckling. Obi-Wan wriggles out from under Cody, lying still, still, still on top of him, and kneels beside him. Fire eats at Cody’s armor, sinking through plastic and creeping around steel. Obi-Wan beats at the flames, quenching them with cloth and flesh, and then presses two fingers to the underside of Cody’s chin. He feels a heartbeat, weak but steady, and breathes a sigh of relief.

Obi-Wan stands and turns in a circle, taking in the ruin around him. 

The command center is utterly destroyed. Fires lick at the downed, twisted, and ruptured walls and ceiling, blasted to pieces that fell in dangerous spears to the hard-packed dirt ground. The central console is a ruined mass of metal and wood, sparks hissing to the charred ground, the holographic interface spitting blue images every few seconds. 

Bodies litter the ground. Mooner is dead, his body rent in half by fallen debris. His face is frozen in an expression of shock and fear, blood trickling from his open mouth to stain the ground with mud.

Turning again, it is only then that Obi-Wan realizes that the place he had been standing before Cody knocked him to the ground has been destroyed by a chunk of fallen ceiling. A thrill of shock runs through him; without Cody, he would be dead right now.

Another thrill of shock runs through Obi-Wan as he steps out of the ruined command center to see fires burning throughout the camp.  _ Why didn’t the Force warn me of this? _ he wonders, staggering dazedly into the throng of Clones frantically grabbing water and blankets and any other thing that can beat out flame.  _ Then again _ , he thinks,  _ maybe it did and I wasn’t paying attention. _

“General? General, are you okay?”

Obi-Wan turns to see a Clone standing with a blanket in one hand and blood trickling down his face from a cut in his hairline. He looks concerned—which puzzles Obi-Wan.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan says. “But Cody...Cody is…”

“Sir, I think we should get you to the medical tent.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Cody—”

“Yes, sir, we’ll get Cody too. Now come on.”

Obi-Wan resists. “No,” he says, firmer than he has felt since wriggling out from under Cody’s body. “Cody—”

“Rocky!” the Clone calls, and a passing Clone comes jogging over. His hair is shorn down to a black fuzz, and he sports a scar over his right eye that puckers his eyebrow and gives him a grizzled look.

“What’s up, Baker?”

“The General here won’t go to the medical tent until we get Commander Cody.”

Rocky looks at the blasted command center. “You mean anyone survived that?” he asks.

“Cody—”

“Yes, sir,” Baker says. “We know we need to get Cody. Come on, Rocky.”

Obi-Wan leads them into the ruined command center, and over to Cody lying unconscious on the ground. The two Clones kneel and fit their arms under Cody’s shoulders and knees, then hoist him up. 

“Alright, General,” Baker says, “let’s get you two to the medical tent.”

The walk there is slow and cumbersome. Obi-Wan hovers by Cody’s side, and keeps glancing down at his commander’s face, slack and smeared with blood and soot. Finally, however, they reach the medical tent, white and open-faced with cots lying in neat rows up and down the walkway.

“Bring him in,” a Clone medic says, seeing Cody slung between Baker and Rocky. He leads the way to an open cot, then turns to Obi-Wan. “Here, sir,” he says, and pushes Obi-Wan down onto another cot.

“No,” Obi-Wan says, “I’m fine, it’s Cody—”

“We’ll take good care of him, sir,” the medic says, “but right now you need to sit down.”

Another medic approaches, and bends over Cody. After a second he calls for an emergency surgery, and in a second there is a bustle of action around the Commander. In the rush, Obi-Wan is forgotten—or so he thinks, until Baker and Rocky sit down beside him.

“Easy there, General,” Rocky says, and grips Obi-Wan’s shoulder. It is only then, when he is steadied, that Obi-Wan realizes he was wavering.

“‘m fine,” Obi-Wan says.

“No, sir, you’re not,” Baker says. He touches the back of Obi-Wan’s head, and Obi-Wan surprises himself by gasping. He is shocked when Baker’s hand comes away daubed with blood. For a second it is all he can do to stare at the gaudy red staining the Clone’s fingers—and then he reaches back himself, feels the tackiness of drying blood, and wonders just what happened. Vaguely, as he thinks back, he remembers pain in his head when he struck the ground—but he had thought nothing of it then. His chest hurt too, and his stomach, the weight of armored Cody landing on him driving all thought of his head from his mind.

“That’s what I thought,” Baker says. “I’ll go get someone to look at him.”

He returns a moment later with the same medic who led them to the cots. The medic, who introduces himself as Paxer, kneels down in front of Obi-Wan and pulls out a small penlight. Obi-Wan winces when he shines it in his eyes, and then goes cross-eyed when Paxer asks him to follow his finger without moving his head.

“Looks like you have a concussion, sir,” he says. “A decently bad one. There are others who need it more right now, otherwise I recommend an hour or two in bacta.”

“All I did was hit my head,” Obi-Wan protests.

“Yes, sir,” Paxer says. “You did. I’ll give you a stim to stay awake—your right pupil is dilated, and I noticed you wavering when you came in—and I’ll come by every hour to check on you.” He smiles. “You’re going to be fine, General, if out of commission for a day or two, or until we can get you in bacta.”

Obi-Wan blinks. “But I’m fine,” he protests, and tries to stand. Baker and Rocky grab him when he stumbles, and guide him back to the bed.

“No, sir,” Paxer says, “you’re not. Now sit down before you hurt yourself further. I’ll be right back with that stim—and with something to clean up your head.”

He leaves and returns a few minutes later with a white pill for Obi-Wan to swallow, and a small medkit. “Hold still,” he orders Obi-Wan, going around behind him and kneeling. 

Obi-Wan grits his teeth, knowing what’s coming next, and hisses when the sharp, cold sting of antiseptic touches the bloodied wound on the back of his head. He grips his fingers into tight fists, and then bites his tongue when Paxer announces, “You need stitches. Hold still,” Paxer warns again—and then a moment later Obi-Wan feels the bite of a needle.

A moment later it is done. Obi-Wan hears Paxer pull off his medical gloves, repack the medkit, and stand. He comes around to stand in front of Obi-Wan, still seated between Baker and Rocky.

“You’re all done,” Paxer says. “I’ll be back in an hour to check on you. I expect to find you here, General,” he says. Obi-Wan nods. Paxer salutes, and leaves.

“You good, General?” Rocky asks.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan says. “Thank you.”

Rocky and Baker stand and salute, mirroring Paxer. “Glad we could help, sir,” Baker says. Then he and Rocky leave, and Obi-Wan is alone.

He settles back onto the cot, his head pounding and his stomach queasy. If he stays upright much longer, he feels, he is going to throw up—and throwing up in front of his men is not how he hopes to end the day. The tent ceiling is white above him.

Obi-Wan thinks about all the things he should be doing: discovering the source of the attack, reading reconnaissance reports, drawing battle plans, discussing troop movements. He considers getting up and leaving—then decides against it. He is still nauseous, and getting up seems like a very bad idea.

Paxer returns after an hour, as promised. He checks Obi-Wan’s eyes, and asks him to sit up and follow his finger with his eyes. “We should be able to get you in bacta later tonight,” he promises Obi-Wan. “Until then, I want you to stay here. Understood?”

“I understand,” Obi-Wan says, but does not promise to obey. He still does not think he can move without throwing up—though once he can, he intends to leave the medical tent far behind. He has far too much to do, especially in the wake of the attack. 

Paxer returns twice more. Still Obi-Wan does not move for fear of vomiting on the floor

Then, suddenly, there is movement beside Obi-Wan. He drags himself up onto one elbow in time to watch as two Clones lower a stretcher onto the cot beside him. Cody lays on the stretcher, pale and looking smaller than Obi-Wan thinks he has ever seen him, stripped of armor and consciousness. His chest is swathed in bandages and his skin is red with burns.

The Clones leave with the stretcher. Cody lays still on the cot, head turned to one side, bruises already purpling his right eye and cheek.

Obi-Wan drags himself off of his cot. The need to make certain that Cody is alive—that he is breathing, that his heart is beating—is nearly overwhelming. Obi-Wan sinks onto the edge of Cody’s cot, gagging and swallowing back bile, and reaches out with a hand to his throat. His heart beats steady and firm beneath Obi-Wan’s calloused fingers.

“Oh, Cody,” Obi-Wan breathes, it sinking in, slowly but surely, that Cody saved his life. Carefully, tentatively, Obi-Wan brushes his fingers over the purpling bruises, then over Cody’s hair, shorn military. “Where would I be without you?”

_ Dead _ . The answer is clear and obvious.  _ You’d be dead. _

“How can I ever repay you, my friend?” Obi-Wan asks Cody. “You’ve saved me countless times, in countless ways.”

He sighs and slides off the cot and onto the floor, leaning his head against the thin mattress. “I won’t leave you,” he promises. “I can do that much, at least.” Once more he reaches out, feeling foolish and daring all at once, and touches Cody’s cheek once more. “You deserve that much from me, my friend.”

Paxer finds him like that—slumped against Cody’s cot, head lying on top of the mattress, one hand splayed over his stomach as if that could keep the bile down—half an hour later.

“Sir,” he says softly, kneeling by Obi-Wan’s side, “we have a free bacta tank ready for you.”

Obi-Wan lifts his head slowly. “Oh,” he says, then nods. “Thank you.”

Paxer helps him stand, one hand under Obi-Wan’s left elbow. “He’ll be alright, sir,” Paxer says, seeing Obi-Wan’s gaze lingering on Cody’s face. 

“I know,” Obi-Wan says, the Force singing to him that all will be well, and lets Paxer lead him away.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Hopefully not too terrible. I'd love to hear your thoughts, though!


End file.
